


Recollection

by Kalael



Series: Hold your hand 'til the colors fade [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Memory Loss, Reincarnation AU, Unnamed Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/pseuds/Kalael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack plays with the cup on the table, spilling tea onto the polished wood.  He smears out letters with his fingertips, spelling nonsense words that only have meaning to him.  Kozmotis wants to shake him, bring Jack out of that place he goes to whenever he’s not fully there with Kozmotis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> listen to Haunt by Bastille for mood music c:

The sun hasn’t yet risen over the houses but the kitchen is washed with pale light that streaks in through the window. Jack sits at the small dining table with a cup of tea cradled in his hands, the rim of it pressed to his lower lip as he stares outside. He hasn’t drunk from the glass since he filled it. The tea is oversteeped but he hasn’t noticed, his mind far from the warm cup in his hands.

“Jack?” Kozmotis calls quietly down the stairs. Seraphina is still sleeping in her room, it’s too early for even her to be awake. Jack’s sleep schedule has never been regular, and Kozmotis is not unused to waking up alone in their bed. He finds Jack at the table, staring out the window with a dazed expression and dark bags under his eyes. Kozmotis doesn’t say anything to announce his presence. He just walks up behind Jack and wraps an arm around him, kissing the top of his head before resting his cheek there.

Jack doesn’t react at first, though he does lean back into Kozmotis’ touch. Slowly he pries his fingers from around the cup and sets it down, the tea dark and murky from leaving the tea bag in too long. Jack stares down at it, trying to remember what he was doing.

“It’s five in the morning.” Kozmotis says softly, catching Jack’s attention. “I heard the kettle go off about twenty minutes ago, and when you didn’t come back upstairs I came to check on you. You could sleep in, you know. It’s Sunday, and we don’t have any plans.”

“I know.” Jack murmurs. “I couldn’t sleep.” _You can never sleep_ , Kozmotis thinks, and he holds Jack a little tighter.

“How do you feel?” He asks, already knowing what the answer will be. Jack plays with the cup on the table, spilling tea onto the polished wood. He smears out letters with his fingertips, spelling nonsense words that only have meaning to him. Kozmotis wants to shake him, bring Jack out of that place he goes to whenever he’s not fully there with Kozmotis.

“Same as always, I think. Maybe better today. It all bleeds together, though. Did you want tea?” Jack seems to realize that his tea is cold and too bitter to drink when bites his ring finger, which is bare because he forgets to wear the small silver band Kozmotis gave him. It used to bother Kozmotis that Jack would always leave the ring on the nightstand. It’s the least of their troubles now.

“I’ll pass. I’d like to go back to bed, but only if you come with me. Have you taken your medication?” Kozmotis glances to the counter at the orange bottle of meds that is more full than it should be after three weeks. Jack is saved from answering when they hear the stairs creaking under the weight of small footsteps.

“Daddy? Jack?” Seraphina peers around the corner, blinking tiredly at them. “I couldn’t sleep…” Kozmotis and Jack exchange glances, and Jack gets out of his chair to grab his prescription bottle from the counter. Seraphina and Kozmotis watch him as he spills two pills into his palm and then swallows them dry.

“Come on, baby girl.” Jack hoists Seraphina up into his arms. “You’re getting too big for this. Koz?” He passes Seraphina off to her father and Kozmotis tucks her against his chest, carrying her far more easily than Jack.

“Let’s go to bed.” Kozmotis says. He heads for the stairs, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Jack will follow. Jack stands awkwardly in the kitchen, looking small and lost in the sterile space. For a moment Kozmotis doesn’t think that Jack is going to come with, but Seraphina adjusts herself so that she can see Jack.

“Can I sleep with you and Jack?” She asks, making eye contact with him. _Clever girl_ , Jack thinks, and he gives her a wan smile.

“Of course you can. There’s always room for you.” He says. Seraphina beams at him and she watches carefully as Jack follows Kozmotis up the stairs. He sits on the edge of the bed while Kozmotis situates Seraphina beneath the sheets and crawls in after her. Jack almost gets up, almost walks away from the bedroom to avoid the dreams and missing pieces of his life. There are too many things that he doesn't understand, too many things in this room that are lost to him. Kozmotis holds open the sheets and Jack slides under them to curl around Seraphina's tiny body.

He has lived here for five years. He has shared this home with Kozmotis for that long, and helped raise Seraphina into the amazing child that she is. Jack knows that those things are real, they are fact. There are documents and photo abums to prove it. He closes his eyes and prays for a reprieve from the dreams. There are only so many fantasy worlds he can conjure in his mind before reality starts kicking in the door. He wants to dream of things as they are now, imperfect and sharp and beautiful. He wants his dreams to be about real things, not imaginary lives hundreds of years ago.

The medication kicks in and he can't force his eyes open any longer. Jack dreams of London, of art school and sirens and flames licking the tops of buildings. It's a nightmare, one that feels familiar despite having never dreamt of it before. Jack wakes up shaking alone in bed, Kozmotis and Seraphina's voices wafting up from the kitchen with the smell of pancakes.

Jack stays in bed, trying to remember what the day is, and where he put the ring that Kozmotis gave him.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not a condition that can get better. Jack knows that time is limited, although his deterioration is very slow. It could be years before he loses everything completely. Kozmotis attends every doctor’s appointment, picks up every new bottle of medication, calls in sick to work when Jack forgets how to tie his shoes and begins to cry with anger. It’s not easy for anyone, and Seraphina is the most patient of the three. She is the one who draws Jack pictures so he will remember every little thing that occurs between them, and she is the one who teaches him how to tie his shoes when Kozmotis loses himself in his own frustration.

 

Autumn nears its end and the colder weather brings early morning frost. Seraphina is woken up for school by Jack, who encourages her to draw on the frosted window with her fingertips. Kozmotis leaves for work earlier than school starts for Seraphina so that he can pick her up at the end of the day and they will both go home to Jack. Sometimes Kozmotis is late and Jack will go get her. He doesn’t mind going, and it’s the one thing he will never forget to do. He always remembers Seraphina. with her little hands and the way she begs him to draw a story for her on her big bedroom window. But with Seraphina at school and Kozmotis at work, Jack is mostly alone.

 

He works from home, painting spirals of fern-shaped patterns onto canvases and scenes from his dreams. If he can’t avoid them he may as well use them, and these are the paintings that sell best. Textured oil, thin watercolors, acrylic applied so thickly that it nearly cracks when Jack frames the canvas. He is not limited to any medium and when he is painting it is the only time he feels free. When his fine motor skills begin to go, he tears through his unsold paintings until they are shreds on the floor.

 

“I won’t be a posthumous hero.” He says when Kozmotis comes home to the mess. “I won’t be heralded for my art when I am dead and gone and I won’t allow my future lives to see the moments of their ruined pasts.”

 

“Jack, you’re not making sense.” Kozmotis tries to calm him, but Jack is not hysterical. He is sitting stiffly on the floor, surrounded by destroyed paintings, but he has not raised his voice.

 

“I never make sense to you. I hardly make sense to myself.” Jack says. Kozmotis sets his briefcase down on the kitchen table and looks around, realizing that Jack is alone when he shouldn’t be.

 

“Where is Seraphina?” He asks slowly. Jack smiles derisively and stands up, bits of canvas falling off of him.

 

“At a friend’s. Aster’s little girl Sophie. I’m not stupid, I made sure she was safe.”

 

“Before you did this?” Kozmotis gestures at the disaster on the floor and Jack laughs, a broken sound that cuts off sharply.

 

“She’s safer away from here, away from _me_!” He punctuates it by kicking a twisted canvas frame. It cracks and falls over, landing with a soft thud against the carpet. In the wreckage he looks like a lost child, a frail thing standing in the aftermath of a storm. Kozmotis had forgotten for a moment that Jack is as much a victim to this as he and Seraphina are. Jack can’t control what happens, he never could. He’s doing what he can now to make sure that things will go his way after he’s gone.

 

For a moment Kozmotis sees an overlaying image, Jack standing in the living room superimposed by Jack standing in a battlefield. It’s jarring so Kozmotis closes his eyes, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

 

“Jack…” He sighs, not meaning to sound so exasperated, but he’s tired and Jack’s lack of faith in himself is frustrating. But before Kozmotis can offer up any reassurances Jack interrupts.

 

“You know it’s true, don’t fucking lie. I forgot to turn the oven off this morning, burned the shit out of the muffins I was making for breakfast. And Sera almost missed the bus to school, I forgot to put her clothes in the dryer. It’s much safer for her not to be alone with me.” Jack is near tears, his voice is weak and he’s looking at Kozmotis with big, scared eyes.

 

“She loves you, Jack.” Kozmotis says. He can’t help but be frightened as well. He knew, he’d always known that Jack would not be in good condition forever. They’d talked about it when Jack first started to forget things three years ago.

 

“But do you love me?” Jack asks brokenly. “Hang onto me. I don’t want to be alone.” He holds out his arms, seeking comfort, and Kozmotis goes to him. He wraps his arms around Jack, engulfing him.

 

“You’ll never be alone, I’ll always be here.” Kozmotis promises. Jack is so small, so frighteningly small. Kozmotis tries to remember if he was always that way or if this disease has begun wasting away his body as well as his mind.

 

“I’m always alone. One of us always leaves. Always, always.” Jack murmurs into Kozmotis’ chest. Just like the image of Jack in the battlefield, this sounds familiar. Kozmotis kisses the top of Jack’s head and gently lowers them both to the ground, ignoring the way that the broken pieces of canvas and wood dig into his knees.

 

“Not this time, Jack. I promise I will be here for you. We will get through this.”

 

Kozmotis calls Aster and gets permission for Seraphina to spend the night there. He brings the things needed for Seraphina’s sleepover, kisses her forehead goodnight as she bounces excitedly with her hand in Sophie’s, and then he goes home to Jack. Jack, with his shocking white hair against the sheets of their bed, his trembling hands that can barely hang onto Kozmotis’ shoulders as they kiss, his frustrated tears when he can’t unbutton Kozmotis’ shirt. They lay quietly together, neither of them sleeping. They curl into each other and just feel the way they breathe.

 

"I’m forgetting the way it feels to be lost in you." Jack whispers, his lips brushing Kozmotis’s cheekbone. "But I don’t know if it’s the illness, or if it’s because I’m tearing us apart."

 

"I’ll remind you. Everything you forget about us, I will remind you." Kozmotis raises Jack’s left hand and kisses each fingertip until he reaches Jack’s ring finger. There is the silver band that Kozmotis gave him. Jack had remembered to put it on. For some reason that makes Kozmotis begin to cry, and he kisses Jack fiercely before embracing him. "You won’t forget. You won’t forget any of this."

 

He marks Jack the only way he can think of, sucking bruises into his shoulders and praying that they will remind Jack of his promises in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should really tag this oh my god I want to tag this but I also don't because that would spoil too much oh no  
> um um um okay there's a warning at the bottom for those of you who are concerned about being triggered okay???

Life does not change much, even as Jack’s condition worsens. Seraphina is picked up by Kozmotis or she goes home with Sophie so that Jack doesn’t have to find his way to the school to get her. He still wakes her up each morning and draws on her window, though and he sleeps less and less during the night. Kozmotis often finds him curled up in the kitchen with the kettle on, staring listlessly out the window with his hands clutching a journal to his chest. It’s a dream journal, something Jack’s therapist had recommended, and Kozmotis is not so sure that it’s doing Jack any good. If anything Jack has begun to dwell more on the dreams than on reality, but that’s not so unusual.

 

Jack splits his time between frenzied painting sessions and fits of bewilderment, pacing back and forth in the hallway as he tries to remember things that don’t matter to anyone else. He forgets to eat, forgets to do laundry, loses track of time in the shower. His medication changes and the doses grow stronger. The side effects are severe, sending him spiralling into depression. Seraphina begins to sleep in their room more often, holding onto Jack whether or not he is awake. He finds her presence comforting so Kozmotis doesn’t have the heart to send her away. Instead he invests in a bigger bed, allowing the family of three to share the space more comfortably. It’s not conventional, but it’s working. Jack begins to sleep more and talk more.

 

They are not by any means a normal family. Seraphina has no trouble saying that she has two fathers, but it’s hard for her to explain to her classmates that her Jack sometimes forgets to put on his shoes and will destroy his paintings in fits of rage. Kozmotis no longer knows what to say when his coworkers ask about his life at home, or his plans for the weekend. There’s nothing he can talk about without getting pitying stares. Sometimes he doesn’t have to say anything at all, because they will just stare at him when they think he isn’t paying attention.

 

They’re not stable, but they love one another and they will make it through this. They will carry on like they always do, because that’s all they know how to do. December rolls around and the snow is late but it falls heavily. Seraphina’s school gives them a few snow days and those are the days when Jack is at his best. Winter has always been his season and being outdoors brings him back to his old self. He has trouble packing snow, and he takes frequent breaks, but he spends every hour of those snow days with Seraphina and she thrives under the attention.

 

At night, when Seraphina has been put to bed, Jack and Kozmotis lay on the couch together with mugs of hot chocolate and Bailey’s. It feels like it did three years ago, before Jack’s diagnosis and subsequent deterioration. Jack fits comfortably in the curve of Kozmotis’ arm and Kozmotis doesn’t complain when Jack’s bony elbow digs into his side.

 

"I wish it could be like this forever." Jack murmurs, turning his body into Kozmotis’ and kissing the underside of his chin. "I wish I could end every day like this."

 

"We could try. It’s not as if we’re going anywhere, we could do this every night." Kozmotis suggests, scratching lightly at Jack’s scalp. He’s rewarded with a faint smile and another kiss that lingers against his skin.

 

"Maybe." Jack goes quiet and eventually he falls asleep, his mug cautiously balanced on the cushion. Kozmotis sets it carefully on the arm of the couch and then eases Jack up into his arms to carry him upstairs. It’s easier than it used to be. Jack is thin and bony under his sweatshirt. Sometime during the night Seraphina crawls into bed with them and they wake up slowly together, the three of them lounging in bed on that cool Saturday morning and quietly discussing baking cookies.

 

As the days grow colder Jack’s mobility becomes more limited, making it harder for him to play outside with Seraphina. He has a breakdown in the snow, pressing his face into the fort he was trying to work on and nearly giving himself frostbite on his cheeks and nose before Kozmotis finds him and pulls him out of it. Christmas gets closer and the small family decorates for it, wraps gifts for one another to place under the tree. Seraphina talks excitedly about Santa for days on end, and the holiday passes without a hitch. Jack does not burn dinner despite his fears that he would, and his presents to Seraphina and Kozmotis are small paintings that must have taken him months with how weak and trembling his fingers are now. Santa gives Seraphina a set of paints and brushes, which she cries over and shows to Jack. Kozmotis catches his eye and winks comically at Jack’s own teary-eyed expression of wonder.

 

“She wants to be like you. She admires your strength, even if she doesn’t understand. You’re her role model.” Kozmotis whispers to him, and Seraphina solemnly announces that she is holding mistletoe above their heads. They laugh and kiss with an exaggerated smooching sound, prompting Seraphina to throw the mistletoe in disgust.

 

New Years comes and goes. Jack marks the calendar and stares at the dates, growing despondent as the four year mark of his illness gets closer. Winter holiday ends for Seraphina and she starts school again, eager to show her friends all of her new paints and drawings. Jack’s hands begin to shake too much, too often, and his paintings grow too messy to sell anymore. He gives his materials to Seraphina, who does not understand why he no longer wants them. He teaches her what he can but it’s all he does anymore. If he isn’t teaching her to paint he is sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window into the backyard and letting his drink go cold on the table.

 

Kozmotis finds it difficult to get Jack to sleep anymore, and eventually he stops trying. He thinks that Jack will snap out of it like he always does, on his own without interference. Jack’s therapist doesn’t not call Kozmotis with any concerns, so he tries not to worry.

 

Late in January when the snow is more slush than pristine white he comes home to an empty house. There’s a note in the counter in Jack’s scrawling hand that announces that Seraphina is at her friend’s house. There is no mention of Jack’s whereabouts. This doesn’t set off any warning bells at first, Kozmotis knows that Jack doesn’t leave the house alone. But as he goes from room to room with no sign of Jack he starts to worry.

 

"Jack?" He calls out, with no reply. "Jack, this isn’t funny. Where are you?"

 

Jack’s pill bottle is empty on the bathroom counter, sitting open in the sink as though Jack has dumped them all down the drain. But Jack had tried that before and it hadn’t worked then so it wouldn’t have worked now. Yet the bottle is empty, and Kozmotis can feel his heart about to beat out of his chest.

 

"Jack?" He yanks the shower curtain back. Empty. But the pills are gone and Jack is gone and this isn’t normal, this isn’t right at all. Kozmotis checks Seraphina’s room but Jack isn’t there either. He glances at the window and freezes. Of course. There’s frost on the glass and there are faint marks where Jack and Seraphina had been drawing.

 

Kozmotis runs into the backyard, tripping over snowbanks and half made forts, and finds Jack just beyond the treeline. He is paler than usual and no matter how much Kozmotis shakes him and cries, he won’t get up.

 

The paramedics come after Kozmotis had bundled Jack up and carried him inside, trying to warm him up. They check him over, but there is nothing they can do.

 

"Call the coroner." They say. "We’re sorry."

 

Kozmotis sits on the floor by the couch, holding onto Jack’s stiff hand until they take his body away. Seraphina comes home after the ambulance leaves.

 

"Where’s Jack?" She asks, though the way her eyes dart in the direction the ambulance left in reveal that she already has an idea.

 

"I’m sorry, baby girl." Kozmotis says. He does not know what else to say. There is nothing in the parenting books that prepare you for something like this. There is nothing anywhere that prepares you for this. "You know he loved you. He always loved you."

 

"He loves you too, Daddy." Seraphina tells him, confused. "He loves you forever, he told me so this morning. Every day, every life. Always, always." She doesn’t understand what she’s saying, how those words that she is repeating are Jack’s suicide note. "He loves us so much. But where is he? Daddy? Where did Jack go?"

 

He doesn’t know what to say so he holds her to him, memorizing her small body and her hair that smells of Jack’s paint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for suicide by overdosing


	4. Chapter 4

It's a small funeral. Jack didn't have many friends, too caught up with his illness to maintain too many relationships. It's closed casket because Kozmotis can't bear to see Jack's face so still, his body unnaturally motionless. Seraphina is in a pure white dress with snowflakes on it, something she insisted on wearing. Kozmotis had been too tired to fight for the traditional black, and eventually he had relented to Seraphina's pleas for him to wear one of the ties Jack had given him. She seems to be more aware of things than Kozmotis is, although the situation still isn't clear to her. Kozmotis has not yet found a way to explain that Jack had taken his own life.

Kozmotis tries to give the eulogy he had written but he fails, trailing off into wordless sadness and standing before his friends with tears streaking his face. No one says anything about it, they just offer their condolences and then eventually follow them out to cemetery where Jack's casket is lowered into the ground. Belatedly Kozmotis thinks that he should have had Jack cremated, but the idea that Jack's ashes would have been blown away in the wind makes him feel nauseous. At least like this there is a headstone to visit, a false sense of closeness to a man he will never see again.

Seraphina leaves snowdrops on the grave, freshly pulled from the woods in their backyard, and they depart from the cemetery after everyone else is long gone.

Jack’s presence lingers in the house, a thing that cannot be erased even weeks after the funeral. The room that was his studio remains untouched, the door open so that Kozmotis will not come home and think to find him there. Seraphina stares out her bedroom window, wondering what Jack saw out there that made him look so often. She does not stop painting, and draws on her frosty window pane until spring finally comes. Spring had always brought a sense of new beginning, new hopes, but now the slush and muddy grass just make Kozmotis think of stagnation.

He is referred to a therapist by his workplace, something his boss implies as mandatory. The therapist is supposed to be someone he can talk to about all his internalized emotions that have had no outlet since Jack's death. Kozmotis resists at first, denying that he needs it, but in the end he goes to that first meeting and every scheduled one after. He isn't sure if it helps, because the sorrow and emptiness never go away, but the anger starts to fade and he is left listless, without a direction to go in.

“You said Jack kept a dream journal.” Ana, his psychiatrist, says. “Have you read it yet? I think it could offer you some insight into why Jack did what he did.”

“That’s an invasion of privacy.” Kozmotis sighs. “Even though Jack’s...gone, I won’t go through his personal belongings.”

“I know it bothers you, not knowing. While I think that sometimes it’s better not to know, I also think this could give you peace. Consider it, Kozmotis. From what you’ve told me about Jack, I don’t think he would mind if you tried to understand.” Ana smiles at him and wishes him a good day as their session comes to an end. Kozmotis picks Seraphina up from school and as he watches her paint in the kitchen, he thinks about the dream journal.

It takes nearly a week for Kozmotis to take the journal from Jack’s studio. It’s eerie, the empty room where Jack had once spent his days painting. There are only a few pieces of Jack’s art left, things that Jack hadn’t destroyed because they had too much personal value. Kozmotis didn’t plan to sell them, it had never crossed his mind. There had been some people, of course, art dealers that Jack had worked with before who were interested in making money off Jack’s suicide. Kozmotis had turned them all away, furious that they thought they had any right to Jack’s work. So the paintings sit untouched in the studio, almost shrine-like in the way it’s been left. Kozmotis knows that one day the room will need to be cleared but for now it’s exactly the way Jack had left it.

The dream journal is an attractive leather bound notebook with swirling designs etched onto the cover. It’s a bit stained with paint and tea but it’s still in good shape. Kozmotis runs his fingers over the etchings, which Jack had done himself. It’s a very personal thing, something that Kozmotis had never asked to see or sneaked a peek at before. Jack’s dreams were his own. But now they may be the only thing that will allow Kozmotis to see into Jack’s head.

He knows why Jack committed suicide. He knows that the medication and the shaking hands were the tipping points on the balance. Jack killed himself because he was in pain and he was scared. But the dreams...the dreams play a role, somehow. Kozmotis knows that they do.

He opens the journal and begins to read.

\--

Dreams are strange things. Kozmotis rarely remembers his own dreams, and the ones that he does are nightmares. They’re just glimpses of things, bits of emotion and imagery that carry over into the morning. They had always made him hang on tightly to Jack, for some reason terrified that he would disappear one night and never be seen again.

Now that Jack is gone, Kozmotis doesn’t dream at all.

The journal is a pretty thing but the writing within in it is haphazard and disastrous. There are different colored pens and pencils and one section was even written out with a calligraphy pen, the elegant script standing out clearly on the wrinkled pages. It takes a while for Kozmotis to understand most of the handwriting, which is much messier than the notes Jack would write for him.

He doesn't understand what he is reading, at first. They are just memories, things that he and Jack had done together in the year before Jack was diagnosed. But as Kozmotis reads on the memories become something else, a thing that Kozmotis cannot comprehend or explain. They are things he feels a pull towards despite how bizarre and frightening they are. Sword fighting, plague, bathing in streams, bombs, air raids, making love under the stars...it's impossible, all of it. But Jack writes as if it were true, and Kozmotis begins to understand the paintings.

Something clicks. The dreams, the paintings, Jack's suicide. Kozmotis sets the journal down and rushes into the studio, pulling out the paintings that Jack had considered too personal to sell. There are figures and Kozmotis knows that Jack had painted the two of them together in these. He runs shaking fingers over the smaller figure on each painting and he finally understands. These are still memories. Somehow, these are real memories that belong to Jack. And somehow they belong to Kozmotis as well.

That night he begins to dream again.

He wishes he hadn't.


	5. Chapter 5

Seraphina knows that without Jack, her father is coming undone. She is only seven but she knows that things are wrong, things are bad. She misses Jack too, she misses his patience and smiles and the drawings in the frost on her bedroom window. Her birthday had passed quietly, without the homemade cake from Jack and without a new painting to hang on her wall. Kozmotis had suggested a birthday party but Seraphina had declined, not wanting anyone over to be in the house where Jack isn’t any longer.

Time passes by much more slowly, at least for the first few years. Kozmotis withdraws to a place even Seraphina can’t reach. He’s still a good father and she loves him with all her heart, but he’s hurting from something Seraphina doesn’t really understand. When she is twelve she realizes that he is like Jack, dreaming of things that terrify him and put him in a place outside of reality. And like Jack, there is nothing that Seraphina can do. It’s hard to watch her father spiral down the path that Jack had gotten lost on.

When she is thirteen she crawls into his lap, a little too gangly to sit as comfortably as she used to, and wraps her arms around his neck. Kozmotis doesn't hesitate to return the embrace, resting his chin on top of her head.

"Don't leave me." She says quietly. "Don't leave me like Jack left us."

"I won't, baby girl. I'll be here for as long as you need me." Kozmotis presses his lips to her hair, his arms tightening around her. Seraphina has taught herself not to take anything at face value, and she recognizes the second meaning that Kozmotis might not even realize he’s given.

"I'll always need you. So don't go, okay? Stay with me. Jack will wait for us." She’s selfish but she’s scared and a part of whispers that it isn’t fair that she has to make her father promise something that other kids get to take for granted. Seraphina twists to make eye contact with Kozmotis, who looks at her with tired eyes. It hurts to see resignation in his features.

"He will." Kozmotis agrees with a pained look. He sounds so old, Seraphina thinks. Hundreds of years old instead of someone in their early forties. She crawls into his bed that night, something she hasn’t done since she was eight, and she lies awake through his nightmares.

Kozmotis never remarries, never sees anyone else. Seraphina doesn’t mind it. She doesn’t want to see Jack replaced. There is no one who can compare to him, though there are people who try. She asks Kozmotis if he is unhappy, but he just smiles and tells her that he is so glad to see her grow up so beautifully and that Jack would be proud. Seraphina never stops painting, and when she leaves for art school she tells her father to call every week. They keep in touch more often than the rest of her classmates do with their parents, and when they express jealousy she has to bite down the bitterness.

She loves her father and she loves Jack, but she has been living in the memory of the past all her life. Even on her own at college she can’t escape it, watching as her paintings take on the qualities that Jack’s did. Eventually Seraphina begins to paint from her dreams, landscapes of distant worlds too fantastic to be compared to earth. She becomes successful after graduation and takes up a side job to support herself as her paintings slowly but surely gain popularity. Kozmotis reminds her that he is proud, and when they stand beside Jack’s grave on the anniversary of his death Kozmotis tells her that Jack is proud as well.

He seems even older these days, the wrinkles at his eyes collecting years he hasn’t lived in this life. Seraphina knows that he has only stayed around this long for her sake. It should be reassuring that he loves her enough to stay, but it feels so incomplete and empty.

When Kozmotis grows ill, Seraphina sits beside his hospital bed and rests her head on his chest like she did as a child.

“You don’t have to hang on for me anymore.” She whispers to him as he sleeps. “I need you, but you don’t have to stay.” He does not respond, too deeply asleep to respond from his dreams.

She is there is to see her father buried beside Jack, the years on the headstones differing by nearly fifty years. Half a century, Seraphina thinks. Half a century spent in an empty bed. After the funeral she packs up Jack’s paintings and Kozmotis’ journals and takes them home. They’re not an unusual addition to the house, which is already filled with things that Kozmotis had left to her and paintings that she had done in Jack’s memory. Seraphina knows it’s not healthy, the fact that her home has become a memorial to her father and the boy who had changed her life so completely. But they were her parents, her family, and she will never understand why Jack had left them. Late at night she cracks open Jack’s journal, wondering what her father had found there that had so utterly ruined him.

Seraphina no longer dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

Kozmotis is a boy with a name bigger than his scrawny body. He is six years old with a shock of black hair and a stern nose that doesn’t quite fit his face, and he is waiting outside the maternity ward with his grandmother while they wait to hear the news about his new baby sister. He’s excited but is trying not to show it, instead folding his hands in his lap and staring intently at the service desk.

As exciting as becoming a big brother is, right now Kozmotis is bored. His grandma has dozed off next to him, a magazine in her lap, and Kozmotis is too old to play with the dumb toys in the waiting room. It's not too crowded here, but no one is paying attention to what’s around them, too focused on the clock or a book or a phone. A gurney rolls through a set of doors and Kozmotis is mesmerized by the rhythmic swinging. After a quick glance at his grandmother to make sure she is still asleep, Kozmotis hops out of his chair and heads for the doors. No one notices the little boy disappearing past the service desk into a hallway.

Most of the doors are shut, and Kozmotis can just barely read the signs with names on them. The rooms with open doors are empty, at least until he reaches one at the very end of the hallway. Kozmotis peers in, the door creaking as he pushes it open, and he is surprised by the sound of coughing.

There is an old man with thick white hair and very, very blue eyes laying on the bed. He’s hooked up to an IV and a respirator, obviously very frail, but when he sees Kozmotis he sits up anyway.

“Hello, young man, are you lost?” He asks. His voice is low and strong, which surprises Kozmotis. The man looks too thin to hold a voice like that.

“Not really. I was just exploring. Are you sick?” Kozmotis asks as politely as he can manage through his curiosity.

“No, just old. Too old, I think, but there was something I wanted to do. Why are you here?” The old man relaxes into his pillows with a smile and Kozmotis scrambles up into the chair by the bedside.

“I’m going to be a big brother.” Kozmotis announces proudly. He shifts in the chair until he's comfortable, then folds his hands in his lap as an afterthought. "But sitting with grandma was boring. You look cool. What’s your name?”

“I’m Jack. Who might you be, young man?”

“Kozmotis. I don’t really like my name, yours is neat though! Ja-ck.” Kozmotis clicks the hard K in the back of his throat and beams at Jack, who looks stricken. The expression doesn’t last and Kozmotis doesn’t think anything of the strangely sorrowful look he had seen just a second before. Old people are weird, his grandma has proven that much.

“Kozmotis, hm? It’s nice to finally meet you.” Jack says with a smile. Kozmotis frowns, bemused by the odd wording. Finally?

“Um, do you know me somehow?” He asks hesitantly.

“You wouldn’t remember. It was….a very, very long time ago. But I waited to meet you, so I’m glad I finally did. You better run along though, Kozmotis, I’m sure your grandmother is worried. You treat your little sister well, you hear?” Jack says, and Kozmotis can't help but be a little disappointed that such a strong voice has become so brittle. But the mention of his little sister excites him and he slides off the chair with a grin.

“I will! It was nice to meet you too, Jack! Sorry I made you wait! Can I come visit you again?” Kozmotis bounces on the balls of his feet, eager to go see if his sister has arrived but also still curious about Jack. Jack shakes his head and Kozmotis deflates.

“Perhaps not. You see, you’re going to be very busy being a brother. And I’m stuck here, so it would be very boring for you. But thank you for the thought. Run along now, you’ve got a whole life ahead of you. Enjoy it.” Jack's entire body has hunched into the pillows and he looks impossibly small, like a little ghost nestled against the sheets. Kozmotis grasps at straws, trying to find a reason to come back. Something is urging him to do so and it frightens him because it's so powerful, but he is too young to question what his heart tells him to do.

“Well, if I do get to come back and visit, will you be here?” He asks finally, and Jack looks up at the ceiling as if it holds the answers.

“I won’t be leaving. So maybe. Maybe.” A maybe is better than a firm rejection so Kozmotis immediately cheers up again.

“Okay. Bye, Jack! I promise to visit!” Kozmotis flaps a hand in a hurried farewell, his thoughts once more overtaken by anticipation for the arrival of his new baby sister. Jack faintly waves goodbye as Kozmotis scurries out of room.

"I never forgot, Kozmotis. I remember everything. I remember you. I'll try again in the next life. Next time." Jack lays back down in bed, rubbing gently at the place where the IV is embedded into his arm. Again. He’s running out of time again. “I suppose this is punishment, for committing suicide in the last life. But don’t punish him. Don’t let him remember, not this time.”

It's likely a futile wish, but Jack can dare to dream.

Time goes by. Kozmotis begs his mother to take him back to the hospital to visit the lonely old man with bright blue eyes, and after a few weeks she finally relents. His baby sister stays at home with their grandmother while Kozmotis and his mother go the hospital with a handful of forget-me-nots that Kozmotis had picked from the backyard. It’s a meager offering but he holds them in a sticker-covered plastic cup, trying not to feel nervous as he and his mother walk up to the service desk.

“Sorry, but my son really wants to visit a man he met here a few weeks ago. Koz, what was the man’s name?”

“Jack. He’s got really white hair and really blue eyes, and he had drawings on his wall! I remember where his room is so can I visit? Please?” The woman working at the desk smiles indulgently at him and says yes, he may, so long as his mother accompanies him. Kozmotis beams at her and then heads for the hall he had wandered down before, not noticing the way his mother’s face pales at the sign pointing in that direction.

“Honey, maybe we should just go home. I’m sure Jack would appreciate your visit, but I don’t think--”

“No, I promised. I promised Jack that I would find him.” No, he’d promised he would visit him. Kozmotis doesn’t know why he said that, why he said ‘I would find him’. He isn’t looking for Jack, not really. They near the room where Jack is and Kozmotis walks faster, excited to have his mother meet the cool old man and give Jack his flowers.

But the room is empty.

“Kozmotis, baby, I’m sorry. Jack...needed to leave.” His mother starts off slowly. Kozmotis looks up at her with wide eyes, uncomprehending.

“But where did he go? He looked so sick, he said he wasn’t going to leave here.” He says in a matter of fact sort of tone, as though this was set in stone and the idea of Jack leaving is ridiculous. But something withers in his heart, something that knows this isn't right. He takes a deep breath and tears well up for no reason that he understands.

“Honey…” His mom reaches for him but he steps away.

“Did he lie to me? I told him I’d visit. Maybe he left a note?” Kozmotis sets his flowers on the bedside table and scrambles onto the bare bed, looking under the sides of the mattress and pulling open the table drawers.

“Kozmotis, don’t do that, it’s time to go.” His mother grabs at him and Kozmotis chokes on a sob, confused by Jack's absence and the aching sorrow inside of him.

“But he said he wouldn’t leave!” He wails, trying to find the words to explain his sadness and coming up short. His mother sits on the unmade bed and wraps her arms around him.

“Kozmotis, he didn’t mean to. He didn’t do it on purpose. I’m sure he was looking forward to you visiting but sometimes you can’t control when you have to leave. This is the hospice wing, baby, people don’t leave the hospice wing. I’m sorry. We can...we can ask at the front desk where he was buried. Okay?”

“Okay.” Kozmotis says, though it really isn’t. He bites back tears because big brothers don’t cry, and a week later they visit a small lonely grave in the cemetery near the hospital.

He begins to dream of a boy with white hair and blue eyes, who paints memories of lives gone by.


End file.
